Dreams
by HarryNZ
Summary: Sometimes you just need to sleep. A collection of H/H ficlets on the themes of sleep, dreams and nightmares. R&R. - Part IV up
1. Part I

**Dreams - Part One**

In the night, he will call for her in his sleep. 

She comes to him, and cradles his head against her, kissing his hair and patting down his sweaty mess of hair to his forehead, whispering hushed, calm words, begging him to sleep, to stop shaking. 

Just as any mother would. 

But she is not his mother, and he is not her son. They are friends, some might say the best of friends, others say not; some say that they are more, and others say not. Neither group is right though, they are neither of these things anymore. Though she still showers him with an affection that resembles that of a mother to her son, platonic is an issue for her now. 

She doesn't have the tension with him as she does with the redhead. Some say it is sexual tension, and others say not. She knows that they don't share anything of the sort, they did try after all. 

But when she is with the other, she does not know what to feel anymore. She has always felt the sense of dread when she is around him, she doesn't like not being able to know what will happen to him, nor how to protect him from the world. Instead she just has to bear with him, with his tantrums, with his introverted self, and just try to crack his shell, to break down the barrier so she can finally see the person she knows is hiding away until the storm has passed. He'll shut himself off from her when she nags at him, and she will try not to again, but she can't help but do it, it is instinct, yet somehow she feels nothing but motherly towards him. 

She used to feel humbled in his presence, to be able to admire him, but to see him as an equal and as his true self. She still sees all of that, but now something will light up inside of her when he is around. When he looks at her, his green boring into her brown, somehow she can forget about everything, and so can she. 

Maybe she loves him, but she doesn't know. 

He, however, does. He has for a long time. While he denied it in his fourth year, and continued on his fifth year, by sixth year his capacity to deny himself seemed to disappear, and he spent weeks avoiding her as he confronted the new sensations, cliché and all. 

He is not always having nightmares when she comes to him, when he calls out her name. Sometimes he dreams, dreams about her, and when he does he knows no other way to describe it but bliss. They will talk, laugh, and kiss about everything and nothing, and eventually sprawl out together on a rug, or cough. 

But they are only his dreams. 

He never tells her this of course, with a red eyed devil chasing after you, hell bent on your death, it is best not to get attached. And besides, he enjoys the feeling of himself so close to her, huddled and crouched against her and she rocks him back and forth, so close he can feel her warm breath dancing across his neck, her supple lips pressing against his hair every once in a while. 

After all, he is still just a boy, a boy with a very pretty girl pressed up against him in the dead of his night, her rather lovely girl parts pressed up against him, on his bed, in the middle of the night... 

But he must not think like that, because that would give it away. He has to be noncommittal, ignore her pleas and nagging, and try to do something about it when she is not there. He has to close himself up to her, as he fears if he ever did open up to her, he would not be able to stop the flood of emotion that would be released from the invisible barriers. He can not do that, at least not yet, maybe not ever, everything he decides has to be determined by someone else, someone else with a wand held to his neck from his birth. 

He hates it, but he accepts it. 

And so he will wait, but one day, their time will come, and that is his reassurance. 

He will wait. 

A/N - Just the first part of some small ficlets about dreams. The next is basically finished, and is not related to this in any way. Do review if you have got this far :) 

- Carl 


	2. Part II

**Dreams - Part Two**

In the night, she dreams. 

_The smell and the sound of a sizzling steak on the barbeque are the first things that register in her mind as she awakes; her eyes flickering as she attempted to adjust to the beating rays of sun. She gently lifts Crookshanks off her stomach from where he has taken residence, and plops him down on the floor, earning a hiss as the cat stalks off. Her legs fall over the side of the lounger, and she slips on her shoes as she stands, stretching her arms as she looks around the yard for him. It takes her only seconds to see him, and she knows, she long has, that nothing can now stop the hitch rising in her throat as her eyes feast on him. His black bangs fall around the shape of his head as he bends over the grill, his firm hand gripping on to the tongs as he gets ready to flip the steaks roasting on there. He wears just a simple T-shirt and a skimpy pair of shorts, leaving her to be able to fantasize as she meanders towards him across the crisp grass, her eyes and mind unable to not admire his tight, firm arse..._

__

_She shook her head, and averting her eyes, reminding herself that it was only lunchtime, and her parents would be arriving at the cottage any moment now. Besides, There would be plenty of time for _that_ later..._

__

_"How are the steaks?" She calls as she gets close, and she cannot help but let an uncommon giggle slip from her lips as he bounds on his feet in shocked response, the tongs dropping from his hands as he flips around, his wand already whipped out in his left to protect himself._

__

_Then he sees her, and she smiles._

__

_"Hermione!" He says exasperately as his shock wears off, and recognition sets in, his boyish face showing the smallest hint of sweat from the encounter. She only smiled at him as she walked towards the barbeque, picking up the tongs and flipping the steaks herself after seeing they were ready._

__

_"Harry," She states as a means of reply, in the most neutral tone she can muster with the grin of a Cheshire cat threatening to show on her lips. Finally she can hold it back no more, and the slightest of laughs escapes her lips before she breaks into mad, hysterical laughter._

__

_He wasn't laughing with her though, she could barely see through the tears of laughter forming in her eyes, but she knew he would have _the _look on his face. His lips in the slightest of pouts as he tried to hold a scowl, or maybe the smallest of smiles._

__

_"I don't know what is so hilarious, I could've been badly burnt," He says in the midst of her laughter, his voice uppity and his nose raised in the air. Her laughter faded eventually, and when it did, she strode over to him and took him into her arms, kissing the scowl off his face._

__

_"I'm still not happy with you." He murmured against her lips._

__

_"I know," She sighed, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip, and her gaining the (welcome) intruder entry to her mouth._

__

_When they finally had to release each other's lips, they just held each other as tightly as they could._

__

_"I love you," She whispered against his chest a few moments later._

__

_"I know, I love you too," He answered, kissing the top of her head, and pulling her even tighter..._

__

__When she woke up in the mornings, all her other dreams would be long forgotten, but these ones always stayed fresh in her mind, in vivid detail. 

She would walk down to breakfast in the Great Hall, and take her usual place next to him, though keeping her hair tightly around the sides of her face, avoiding his gaze as the blush set in on her cheeks from just being so close to him. He would ask her what was wrong, and she would just mumble some quick reply before rushing to class; leaving him and Ron to ponder what was wrong, the picture forming in her mind easily... 

_"Why does she always do that?" She would see Harry ask, and Ron would shrug his shoulders in response._

__

_"Who knows? Girls."_

__

__Yet when she had the dreams, she would never feel better, and she would sleep all night through, waking in the morning feeling fresh and ready until she remembered the content of her imagination's nighttime wanderings. 

The dreams were a curse, and they were a blessing. 

* 

He has the dreams as well, albeit a little more graphic, but he is just a teenage boy after all. 

He tries to go on normally when he wakes in the morning, as he eats breakfast, attends classes with her; though sometimes he will drift off, and the dreams will be waiting for him, the embarrassment not being able to be escaped if he calls her name out earnestly in the middle of History. 

He knows nothing of his feelings, and dismisses the dreams as normal for a boy of his age. She is his best friend after all, surely there is nothing unusual about a person feeling such things for another in their dreams, and only in their dreams. 

She catches him looking at her sometimes, and he turns away as fast as possible, but more often than not his eyes move back to her, some unexplainable force leaving him breathless without seeing her, and breathless seeing her as well. 

The dreams stopped his nightmares, he had not had one for several months, ever since the dreams started. He was peaceful. 

For him, the dreams were just a blessing. 

* 

Then the nightmares came back. 

It was not the same way it had been before though. 

Before, He would toss and turn, scream and shout until one of his room mates would sleepily rise and shake him back into consciousness. 

That night, He was frozen. His lips were muted, and his body still, but he was terrified. When the nightmare ended, he shot out of his bed, his eyes wide and his breath heavy. He quickly wrapped a dressing gown around himself and walked quickly out of the dorms, making his way down to the common room, only to see her there. 

Her hair was more messy than usual, and her eyes were wide with fright as they met his across the room. It took only an instant for them to both stride towards each other and embrace in a hug, him knowing somehow without asking that she had experienced the same nightmare. 

They rocked against each other for an unknown time, her sobs racking against him, and his hand stroking her back as he tried to calm her. 

"It was so..." She choked out after a few minutes, her voice quivering. He brought a hand up to her face, and place a solitary finger across her lips, hushing her. 

Then he saw it. 

From there on, he knew nothing of what he was doing, only that somehow their gazes had met again, and that eventually, his lips had settled on hers. 

There may not have been the fireworks you were supposed to experience, and there may not have been the chorus of angels ringing in their ears, but it was enough for both of them. 

It was completion. 

The dreams came real that night. 

* 

When he awoke in the morning, he had to wonder whether it had been real. Had it been another of his dreams? 

He was alone in the bed, and a thin sheet was scantily wrapped around his waist. 

But it wasn't his room, and it wasn't his bed. 

Then he looked, and then he saw her. Standing on rocking feet near her desk, her bottom lip being bitten nervously and anxiety written on her face. 

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. 

Just as it happened in their dreams, except now. Now, it was reality. 

A/N - I wrote this a month or so ago, and intended for it to be just a separate ficlet, then I had inspiration to write the first part of this series, so I decided to come back and finish this one. I hope you have enjoyed, and if the mood strikes me again, there could be more. Thank you to all of those who reviewed last time, and if you have got this far, do take the time to leave a quick comment. Thanks. 

- Carl 


	3. Part III

**Dreams - Part Three**

Its been years now. Years since he has had the nightmares. 

Years since he has seen the graveyard. Years since he has seen the pierce of red shooting through a dark wintry sky. Years since the last thing he sees before he wakes up in a mess of covers is a flash of green. 

All because of her. 

Until he was eleven, they were only dreams. Dreams of flying motorbikes and giants, Dreams of better times with laughter and smiles. 

Then he would wake up, and the nightmare would begin with the onslaught of day. 

With truth came horror. 

With truth came the nightmares. 

With truth came Voldemort. 

Nights he would wake up in a cold sweat came all too often. Nights of worry. Nights of memories. 

The flash of green light haunted him wherever he went for so many years, The sound of his mother's incising scream playing on repeat in his mind for days at a time, and the memory of the nightmares would haunt him forever. 

While he would wake up from a dream and forget it in blissful ignorance, he could do nothing of the sort with the nightmares. Whenever he woke up, his mind seemed to go into automatic save, and the images stayed firmly imprinted there. 

Nothing could make them go away. 

They hit with feverent velocity after the third task. No longer were they one in three or four nights sleep. They were there as soon as his eyes closed for slumber, and stayed until they opened again for a new day. 

Visions of red and green, of white skin and dark marks. Of curses, and sounds of cackles and evil laughter in the evading silence. Visions of what had passed, and of what was to come. 

He never saw her coming though. 

In the midst of covers, and the sound of his screams piercing through Gryffindor Tower, he could have never saw her coming. He only felt her arms wrapping around his torso, and her head resting against his as she whispered pleas for him to calm. 

He never saw that if he kept holding on to her, that she would come and face slumber with him, and stay with him until morning, to whenever he needed to. 

He only saw it in the first morning when his eyes first flickered open, and when he realized that slumber had came easily, and that the nightmares had evaded his sleep. 

From then, he could only see her. 

Whether it be in the middle of the night when two lovers souls refuse to rest, or when he first wakes in the morning to see her face pressed next to his. He can only see her, only a mass of brown hair and olive skin, no longer red eyes and green curses. 

Only her. 

She is his rest. 

* 

A/N - If you have made it this far without gagging on the pure fluff, I applaud you, I really do. Very similar to the first, I realize, but I felt like writing it from a somewhat different perspective. Thank you to all of those who have reviewed the last two parts, and once again, if the mood strikes, you will hopefully see some more :) Please do read and review! 

-- Carl 


	4. Part IV

**Dreams - Part Four**

They've always asked me how it happened. 

They being my various roommates, whether it be Lavender or Parvati from my Hogwarts days, or Jess and Tina at Oxford. 

It being Us. Harry and I. 

There never seemed a reply that was adequate though. Certainly nothing that satisfied their hunger, even the plain truth. 

"It just did." 

That was when their eyes would roll, snickers would be exchanged and then the question was asked again, this time with an added and often overemphasized _Really_. 

But that was all to tell. It just did. 

There was no big exchange of romantic sweetness, our eyes never met one day from afar and we never felt the urge to draw together and spend a blissful afternoon in each other's arms. 

At least not at the beginning. 

It began with his nightmares. They weren't the ones where you could just roll back over and go to sleep again. These were the kind that haunted you for weeks; the kind that made your eyes stubbornly stay open at night when you were tired and weary, just so you wouldn't have to meet the nightmares in your slumber again. 

He had them nearly every night for almost a year and a half. 

For all that time, He'd try to be awake, try to be aware, but you could see that something wasn't right. 

We knew what it was, we just didn't know what would fix it. 

I came to him the first time soon into sixth year. It was worse than usual that night, and he was just a ball of wracking sobs amidst the covers of his four poster. The boys just looked on with clueless expressions, obviously worn out of ideas. 

I did what I could only do; wrapping my arms tight around him and crying with him until he calmed. 

Somehow it worked, and he slept peacefully that night. As did I. By his side, in his arms. 

I never slept alone in a bed at Hogwarts again, and he never had the nightmares again. 

Of course, for most of that time, it was sleeping, and sleeping only. I'm not kidding. 

I'm not. 

We just... never managed to get ourselves into gear I suppose. Something about that night had changed our friendship, and instead of merely walking side by side, we'd walk hand in hand, and just think nothing of it. Rather than sit on opposite chairs by the fire, we'd sit in one, me curled up on his lap while he played with my hair. 

And yet, nothing was going on. 

We hadn't kissed, we hadn't groped each other (At least not on purpose, those four posters are only so big, You see), and we hadn't made any undying declaration of love. 

But somehow, we just knew. 

His company was the calm in the storm, and mine was the essence of normality for him with my endless nags about homework. We kept each other alive for those years. 

At least what I thought was alive. 

Then his lips touched mine on an autumn day, and alive took on a whole new meaning. 

Even with the hammer of fate hanging above our heads; life seemed new, fresh. 

Then the darkness ended, and life was good. 

Life was him. 

And that was it. 

* 

A/N - Eh, I'm not sure if I like this or not. Just an idea that came to me while I was on the search for smut bunnies. Do review if you wish, and thanks to those who have reviewed the previous parts :) 


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